


The Third Sorceress War, Part I (Terra Firma)

by Kount_Xero



Series: The Sorceress War [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Battle, Gen, Sex chapter, The Third Sorceress War, Urban warfare, Violence, War, military operation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kount_Xero/pseuds/Kount_Xero
Summary: It was inevitable, its seeds sown years ago, and now that a line has been crossed, it's come to this. SeeD rises to counter the threat of the sorceress, and the sorceress rises to the challenge... the fated children have to go to war once again, this time against an enemy that used to be one of their own.





	1. Prologue (Wall of Mouths)

**Author's Note:**

> The Third Sorceress War will be divided into three parts.

In the background, the finished Balamb Training Facility for SeeD stands in all its glory. The SeeD symbol hangs from its highest point, proud and defiant. The facility itself is empty, and all the SeeDs-in-training and cadets have been called away.

The camera pans to President Heartilly. She lifts her veil with a graceful move, and approaches to the microphone. She seems to be struggling to stand, and on her side, wearing a simple black suit, is Field Marshal Kinneas, there to offer his support. In the background of the podium, Cid and Edea Kramer, President Loire and his advisors, Mr. Seagill and Zabac, Duke James Dollet and the representative of the Free State of Timber, Kole Forester sit, all wearing black, and all watching her. Also present are Brea Willings, in her SeeD uniform, and the Trabia Garden headmaster, Jenit Sol.

President Heartilly clears her throat gently before speaking.

“Three weeks ago, all contact with Ocean Garden, the glorious establishment dedicated to the training of the combat elite, SeeD, was suddenly cut. Attempts to reach them have all failed. The joint search parties sent from both Galbadia and Esthar have turned up nothing. Just three days ago, one of Galbadia Garden’s communications officers recovered a message fragment lost in the radio traffic. It was a distress call from Ocean Garden, calling for help, saying that they were sinking. Unfortunately, the message was lost in the shuffle and never made it to the right place on time.”

Reaction shots of the public. A mother is crying into her handkerchief. A father’s doing his best not to come unraveled. A little girl, twiddling her thumbs, unable to fully understand, is looking around, confused.

President Heartilly continues.

“I offer my condolences to those who have lost their family or loved ones, and remind you that the Galbadian Government, as well as the semi-autonomous state of Timer as well as the Dollet Dukedom have standing, open invitations to all the cadets and SeeDs stranded nearby – we will provide you with food and shelter until such time comes that you wish to move on, or to be assigned to one of the standing Gardens.”

Reaction shots from the crowd reveal a whole array of unreadable faces whispering to one another – a wall of mouths spewing pieces of their disastrous premonitions and projections.

“I now yield the platform to Level A SeeD, Brea Willings, here to represent the fallen Ocean Garden.”

The President retreats, and so does her Knight/Field Marshal. Brea, looking almost too shy for a public speech, slowly steps up. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking:

“I count myself to be among the lucky ones. I was on a mission in Esthar when the Garden fell silent. I was lucky to be taken in by President Loire and his Garden Relief effort. But then again, I was lucky to have been in Ocean Garden at all. I am a Trabian, and in the first home that I lost, I learned that SeeD wasn’t just a name. SeeD was an ideal, a standard to which any cadet, of any Garden, should aspire to. It wasn’t just the Garden that vanished, the Garden that left this world, but it was that ideal that became nothing. But all is not lost. The Garden’s legacy is in me, and in every SeeD left in this world.”

Brea swallows hard. She then sighs.

“At this point, I would like to yield the platform President Laguna Loire of Esthar.”

The camera zooms in on President Loire’s face. It’s a mask, giving nothing away, but his green eyes are tired. His hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, with a few stray strands marking the right side of his face. He steps up to the podium with weary steps and straightens his back before speaking.

“It is a great tragedy,” Loire says, “Words can’t express the loss this world has suffered. As a veteran of the First Sorceress War, I know all too well the need for SeeD. But, and General Leonhart would agree with me if he were here, this should be a time of recovery, not mourning. SeeD still exists in this world, and it is here that I announce the plan for a new establishment to train SeeD, a project that is built on hope that one day, we may be able to overcome the effects of this unfortunate tragedy. Ladies and gentleman, Esthar hereby officially announces that it will begin the construction of Esthar Garden.”

Camera quickly moves to the wall of mouths, and the hushed conspiracies have now become murmurs and shouts. The crowd, all dressed in black and some in the latest fashions available to Balamb. President Loire lifts a hand up and the crowd falls to silence. He continues:

“But until that time, the Balamb Training Facility will serve as the primary station of returning SeeD – and on the off-chance that the arriving population is larger than the capacity of the Training Facility, Esthar will be constructing additional, temporary barracks and will provide whatever is necessary. You can count on us.”

The camera briefly zooms in on President Heartilly, who is either furious, or unbelievably grateful. Next to her, Field Marshal Kinneas’ disgust is less thinly veiled.

* * *

The hovercraft was filled with the sound of wind and the groaning of metal. The inside of it smelled of faux-leather and cigarettes. Laguna was on his third one, and despite the noble efforts of air conditioning, the smoke did linger in the air. Brea was sitting across from Laguna and next to Kiros, absent-mindedly sipping on a tiny bottle of Estharian gin.

“ _You can count on us_?” Kiros said, “Seriously, Laguna?”

“Couldn’t resist.” Laguna smiled, “Just couldn’t.”

“...” Ward made a face.

“I’ll have to agree with that,” Kiros said, “Not the best way to stick it to the sorceress.”

“I thought it was a good shot, sir.” Brea said.

“Brea, for Hyne’s sake, don’t call me that.” Laguna said, “I’m not that old ya know... or that high in rank.”

Ward chuckled.

“Actually, you are both.” Kiros said, “You are the President, which means you are also Commander-in-Chief.”

“You’re not the CiC.” Laguna said.

“But I _am_ old.” Kiros replied, earning a smile from Ward.

“Always something...” Laguna said.

A moment of silence ensued.

“Si...” Brea stopped herself, “Mister President, do you think they bought it?”

“Not one word of it.” Laguna said, “Not even for a second.”


	2. Afterpain (4 Days to Zero Hour)

**(Esthar General Hospital, Recovery Room 012.)**

**(4 Days to Zero Hour)**

“Quistis, you’re not lis-“

“You’re not saying anything worth listening to, damn it! I want out of this bed!”

“Honey, you’re-“

“Don’t use pet names, Seifer. Now is not the fucking time.”

“Look, bottom line is, you can’t-“

“Don’t tell me that I can’t! I _can_ , and I _will_... I just... Hyne... I at least want to go to the bathroom on my own, not carried there like some fucking rag doll...”

Seifer’s hand reached out to hold her uninjured hand, but Quistis withdrew it as she looked away. The silence hung heavily between them. Quistis, without looking at Seifer, broke it.

“...I can’t feel my hand.” she said.

Seifer, afraid he’d say all the wrong things, held his tongue.

“It’s been three weeks, and I still can’t feel it. It’s stuck in a fist. I can’t open it. And my fingernails will grow, and I know they’ll get stuck into my palm, I...”

Seifer couldn’t say anything.

“Just go.” Quistis said, “I want to be alone.”

Seifer slowly stood up. For Squall, who was watching through the observation window outside, it looked like he was slipping on his burdens. His brief walk to the door was all it took for him to adjust to having that weight on his shoulders, and when he got out, he looked at Squall. Squall nodded. Seifer cocked his head in greeting, and walked away.

Squall stood out there, arms crossed, watching Quistis focus on her right hand. From where he stood, it looked like her concentration could cut clean through adamantine, but willpower did nothing in the face of burnt out nerves. Still, he watched her try to move her hand, to open her fingers. In the end, Quistis hung her head and admitted defeat, which was his cue to go in.

“Hey.” Squall said.

“Hey.” Quistis replied, “All quiet on the Estharian front?”

“Waiting for my father to return.”

“It’s nice.”

“What is?”

“You having a father, at long fucking last.”

“Yeah...”

“Seifer was here, so I couldn’t catch the live broadcast. What happened?”

“Rinoa kept a straight face, Brea played her part and my father felt a sudden need to stick it to the sorceress in the most covert fashion.”

“Wish I’d seen that.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the prognosis?” Quistis said. Upon seeing the dejected look on his face, she added, “I’m restless, Squall. I need to be able to move, I need to be out there. Can’t I at least direct training exercises?”

“The Training Center’s been turned into an armory, you know that.”

“I meant the exercises on Tear’s Point." her voice was pleading, "Field exercises, tag teams, that sort of thing.”

“Quistis, I can’t roll you out there on that bed.”

“You don’t have to. I can probably walk in a couple of days, they’re gonna put my leg into a full cast tomorrow...”

“Do you want me to lie to you?” Squall asked.

Silence. Quistis dropped her gaze.

“...no.” she admitted.

“You are staying here. We’re going be moving out in about a week, two at the most – I am not about to give Rinoa much time to get ready for the off chance that we might still be in one piece. We should move while my father still has a bit of diplomatic clout, too.”

“You can have me moved to the Garden.”

“No." Squall shook his head, "I want you here.”

“Why?”

“If this doesn’t go our way, I need someone that can pick up the pieces.”

Quistis managed a half-smile.

“I know I asked you this before, but...” she said, “Do you really think it was her?”

“The repair crew my father lent us pieced together one of the missiles from spare fragments. If they hadn’t gotten the strange idea that they should make a functional, whole missile, we’d know sooner. It’s an IG66.”

“IG66? Doesn’t that have a lower yield than the usual silo stock?”

Squall nodded. “I think the intent wasn’t to blow us to bits, just to cripple us enough that we’d die on our own. Easier to pretend it was just some freak accident that way.”

“Kinneas. This just screams Kinneas.” The name was almost a snarl between her teeth.

“And Rinoa owns him.”

“Biggest mistake Caraway ever made.” Quistis said, “Quitting just to avoid serving under his daughter. And what did that get us? A pussy-whipped coward for a Field Marshal.”

“Besides... there is only one person with enough power to pull off a move like that.”

“So what’s your play?”

“What we were made for – defeating the sorceress.”

“And I’m stuck here.” Quistis said, her voice bitter, “In this fucking bed... your reasoning notwithstanding.”

“I have some good news about that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The technicians gave our entire communications infrastructure an overhaul, replaced it with cutting-edge Estharian tech. They’re fine tuning it, but what they tell me is that wireless audio-visual streaming will be possible.”

“You mean-“

“If it works, you’ll be able to watch us and direct us if need be. I’ll have Seifer run an actual field test of the equipment in a day or two. If it tests well, I’ll assign you a squad. A standard squad of five, nothing more. But even if it doesn’t... you’ll still be there with us.”

Quistis couldn’t hold back. She came unraveled before Squall’s eyes and began to cry, sobbing and wailing. Her unbroken hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, and her fingers dug in while Squall simply sat there, letting it pour out of her. Sadness, surprise, delight, misery, it all came out in the form of tears. It took Quistis a few minutes of solid weeping to try and reel herself in.

Sniffling, Quistis wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Great Hyne and Vascaroon, I’m... look at me.”

Squall reached to her right and grabbed the tissue box from the bedside. Quistis took a couple.

“It’s alright.” Squall said, “It’ll be alright.”

“I know.”

 _I know you do,_ he thought, _I wish I could believe it too._

* * *

Squall left Quistis a few technology magazines, most of them with front-page articles that dealt with wireless technology. He found Selphie waiting for him, pacing up and down the corridor. When she saw him, she stopped pacing. She offered her arm, and Squall took it. As they took the route they had gotten used to in the past weeks, they didn’t say anything. Selphie was the one who broke the silence.

“It’s alright.” She said, “It’ll be alright.”

“I just wish...”

“Nothing you could’ve done that you didn’t do.”

Squall found himself wishing that he could believe that.

* * *

They exited the hospital and were met with the clear air. It felt chilly, chillier than they were accustomed to. They each buttoned up their jackets and drew a little closer to each other. They didn’t speak on their way to the parking garage. They found their assigned car, a hovercar made of curves and colored in tourquise. Selphie decided to ride shotgun.

Squall settled into the driver’s seat and put the keycard into the ignition slot. He turned it, causing the engine to whirr to life and then paused.

“I could have let them take her when I had the chance.” he said.

“Back at the Sorceress Memorial all those years ago? You could have, sure. But do you think for a second that you would be able to live with that choice?”

“Yes.”

“You say that when hindsight is 20/20, sweets. There’s no turning back from what happened, hell, even Ellone told you – you can’t change the past. It already happened, it’s set in stone. We took the damage, and now is the time to recover, so we can bitchslap the living Vascaroon out of the new sorceress. Now drive, Sir Laguna should be descending by now.”

Squall smiled.

“You never cease to amaze me.” he said.

“It’s a gift.”

Squall turned the car on and drove off. It hadn’t been half a mile before he felt the tension of Quistis roll off his shoulders, but there was still miles to go before he could rest.


	3. Battle Plans (4 Days to Zero Hour)

**(Esthar Presidential Palace)**

**(4 Days to Zero Hour)**

The hovercraft’s descent sent air currents out in every direction. Squall stuck his hands in his pants’ pockets as he waited for the landing sequence to be completed. Selphie, right next to him, was tapping a rhythm with her foot. Squall recognized the rhythm, the bass drum of the SeeD march. He smiled. Some things, it seemed, were hard-wired into them.

The hovercraft landed, and the sound of the engines cooling down was accompanied by the side hatch detaching itself from the body to gracefully curl outwards, forming a ramp. Brea came out first, saluted them, and took her place by Squall’s side. Squall felt a piece click into place, found her presence soothing. He had grown used to having her around.

“Brea.” Squall said.

“Sir.” Brea said.

“You did good.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Laguna, flanked on both sides by Kiros and Ward, approached with a weary smile. Squall tensed up. Either everything was going as planned, or they were fucked, and that was all he could read.

“Son.” Laguna said.

“Mister President.” Squall replied.

“Must you do that?”

“We are still working.” Squall said, “We will be, until this is over.”

“Fine. Can we go inside?”

“Yes, Mister President.”

Squall and Laguna took point, and Squall allowed Laguna to lead them through the corridors of the Presidential Palace. They were surrounded by the Estharian turquoise and navy blues on both sides, followed at every turn by holographic paintings of various scenes often interrupted the otherwise smooth surfaces. Sorceress Galaetha at Centra. The Fall of the Centran Empire. King Zebalga and Vascaroon, facing each other in the field of battle.

Hyne, the Strong God, the world in one hand and the Book of Creation in the other.

Behind Squall and Laguna, Brea and Selphie were holding a conversation, and they were followed by a completely silent Kiros and Ward. Their non-conversation spoke volumes, their attunement to each other’s now-natural presence was enough for them.

“You were great out there.” Selphie said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I think you probably know... I’m a Trabian.”

“There is hardly a one who doesn’t know, sir. With all due respect, everyone passes by the cemetery at some point.”

Selphie bit her lower lip.

_Always this. It’s always this._

“Rinoa and I had a little chat after the press conference was over.” Laguna said to Squall as he guided them through the corridors of the Presidential Palace, “She wanted to know why we were lending so many hovercrafts to the Balamb Training Facility.”

“What did you say?” Squall asked.

“That they needed them for deployment purposes, since their previous stock had sunken with the Garden.”

“She didn’t actually believe it.” Kiros added, “But she doesn’t need to. She probably already suspects that we’re hiding you here anyway.”

“Which brings me to the moot point.” Laguna said, “It hasn’t been a month and already, we’re pretty much at the end of diplomacy. There is only so much I can do to steer this situation. I don’t have a lot of wriggle room.”

“You don’t need it.” Squall said.

“There’s just-“

“That’s a discussion for the War Room.” Squall said.

Laguna nodded and took a left turn.

* * *

The War Room was a domed, well-lit room with a large projection table right in the middle of it. The 3-D imaging could be programmed to reflect any place, from buildings to entire cities, and was currently stuck on the constant of Deling City. When they entered, two SeeDs and Laguna’s Chief of the General Staff (a stocky, yet well-mannered gentleman by name of Mir) saluted them. Laguna hand-waved their salutations as a reply, the others didn’t do anything.

Squall, Laguna, Brea and Selphie huddled on one side of the table, while Mir, Ward and Kiros took the other one. Squall studied, once again, the layout that he had memorized in the past weeks.

The doors of the war room slid open then and let in a dejected Seifer. He didn’t greet or salute, he simply took his place on an unoccupied side.

“You’re late.” Squall said.

“By only a minute.” Seifer replied.

Mir cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, ladies, if we could please...”

“Yes, certainly.” Laguna said, “Armaments.”

“We have the Garden.” Squall said, “The new armory installed in what used to be the Training Center is well stocked.”

“Esthar can’t directly contribute in terms of weaponry beyond that,” Mir said, “We could possibly lend you artillery, but they were Galbadian models, made specially as a gift for the President, and they would be noticed. But what we will provide you with, which we will claim you simply stole the specs from us, is a cloaking device.”

“A cloaking device?” Selphie grinned, “Cool.”

“It’ll drain some power, but it’ll be able to mask the Garden’s approach and possibly prevent an early warning.” Mir said, “The pulse batteries themselves are power-intensive units too, but are less so than the cloak.”

“Besides which, their design specs have been public knowledge since the first War.” Kiros said.

“Troop deployment is an issue.” Squall said, “Coordinating the Garden and the APC hovercrafts is going to be tricky.”

“I thought,” Selphie said, “that a twice-over approach may work.”

“Such as?”

Selphie pointed at the outskirts of Deling, near the Monument of Victory that had served as the city’s Southern entrance, where they had fought Edea for the first time.

“We wait here.” She said, “For the APCs to approach from the East. When they fall in, we enter.” She traced her finger through the arches and into the Deling Square, “We move into the city from there.”

“Where will the APC squadron land?” Laguna asked.

Squall pointed at the Eastern entrance of the city.

“Victoria Street?” Kiros said, “There are two flaws in your plan.”

“Such as?” Squall raised an eyebrow.

“For one, the Monument of Victory is too much of a bottleneck. Say that Rinoa did anticipate the move, and she was ready for you... your forces will be slaughtered within minutes.”

“What’s the second catch?” Selphie asked.

“The route you’re planning to take has Galbadia General Hospital in the middle of it. If anything were to happen while you were there, the results would be... disastrous.”

“We _will_ be trying to sell this war, if you’ll pardon the expression.” Mir said, “On the off chance that we actually do not manage to secure our objective and have to endure a prolonged conflict, we need a reason to be in a position to endure it.”

“Duly noted,” Squall said, “But Victoria Street is still our best bet. Our initial plan has the secondary group moving through the city towards Deling General Hospital. We’ll take the main route and meet them there, from which point on, as a single unit, we’ll march north, to Caraway Street.”

“What’s your second plan?” Laguna asked.

“If one group gets held up, the next group will proceed with the mission as planned.” Squall said, "Either way, I want to avoid a skirmish for as long as possible."

“And, if both groups are held up?” Mir said.

“Don’t sneer at me or anything when you hear it,” Selphie said, “But I thought we’d bring the Garden around and level the fucking Mansion.”

The sudden silence was followed by uncomfortable shifting.

“It is the last resort, of course,” Squall said, “But that is still an option.”

“...let’s not go there just yet.” Laguna said.

"Sorry, but-" Seifer interjected, raising a hand, "Why the fuck not? We can go in, level the place and call it a day."

Squall rolled his eyes. "And have Esthar, or worse, Ocean Garden claim responsibility for killing the freely elected president of Galbadia? Quistis can tell you all about how many accords that violates, let alone the potential fallout."

"Moving on, then." Seifer said, crossing his arms.

“Do you have a contingency?” Kiros asked.

“Well,” Selphie said, “We thought that Sir Laguna-“

“Can you not call me that?” Laguna asked, “It makes me sound old, or your superior in rank. I’m still young enough to wage this damn war, and I’m not-“

Ward snickered.

“Actually,” Kiros said, “You’re both. The President is also Commander-in-Chief, so you’re her superior. As for the old, we all are.”

“But-“ Laguna started, but Selphie interrupted him.

“That’s my special name for you. I loved you on _The Sorceress and the Knight.”_

 _“Anyway.”_ Squall said.

“Oh, right.” Selphie giggled, “We retreat. Sir Laguna talks his way out of it, denies all knowledge of us. Buys time until we figure out what to do next.”

“Talk my way out of it how, exactly?” Laguna asked.

“You keep saying you wrote the chapter on diplomacy.” Squall said, “You’ll find a way.”

“You’re counting on me a little too much here.” Laguna said.

“Anything else?” Mir asked.

“One thing – I’m moving the test of the wireless equipment to tomorrow.” Squall said, “And a question, Adviser Kiros: how soon can the Garden move out?”

“The tech tells me that it’ll be ready in four days with everything in place, including the installation of new equipment.”

“Then we go on the fifth.” Squall said.

“Any terms of who’ll do what?” Laguna asked.

Squall pointed at Seifer, “Seifer will lead the secondary force, and if the wireless equipment works, Quistis will lead with him. Selphie and I will move the primary force. Xu will stay in the Garden and direct our movements.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that?” Kiros asked, “A General doesn’t fight in the field, Squall, he commands others to do so.”

“It’s a bit personal.” Squall said.

Silence ensued.

“I think it’s time for dinner.” Laguna offered, “Care to join me?”

“What are we having?” Selphie asked.

“I don’t know, we’ll have to go down to the kitchens to see what they’ve got.” He got to her side and held out her arm, “May I?”

Selphie smiled and took his arm. She glanced at Squall, who seemed to be fixated on the holographic map of Deling.

“Coming, darling?”

“I just thought of something. You go, I’ll catch up.”

Selphie raised an eyebrow, but left it at that. Laguna led her out, Kiros, Ward and Mir followed. After Seifer left, Squall found Brea looking expectantly at him. Expectantly... and a bit nervously.

“Relax.” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If this goes south, if I fail... I want you to see to it that Selphie gets to safety.”

Brea didn’t say anything.

“Please.” Squall said, “I can bear the thought of failure enough to survive. In a situation like this, there are-“

“Two options, success and failure, and it is always an even divide. 50%, no more, no less. Sir Kiros’ chapter on the fundamentals of war.”

Squall smiled.

“I can’t bear the thought of her being hurt by my failures." he said, "I can’t live with it, but I won’t have it.”

“As you command, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“I’m hoping that it won’t need to come to that.” Brea said.

“Between you and me, so am I. Now, will you accompany me to dinner?” Squall offered his arm. Brea took it.

“It’d be my pleasure, sir.”


	4. Field Test (3 Days to Zero Hour)

**(Esthar Military Training Grounds, Esthar School of War)**

**(3 Days to Zero Hour)**

The wind gently traveling through the arena caressed her hair and Brea shifted uncomfortably. The sim suits of Estharian soldiers were a close fit, hugging her body with thick but mercifully breathable fabric. Woven into the suit, she was told, were sensors in every single fiber, which would record any damages and would restrict her movements accordingly. Embedded through each limbs were small clamps, ready to disable entire limbs via small, non-lethal shocks if the damage recorded was deemed to be severe or specific enough.

If she took enough damage, the suit would lock everything down.

She weighed her sim-pistols and found them to be extremely light. Lacking the weight of her regular guns left her feeling somewhat insecure. But there was no helping either now, and she knew it.

The arena was nothing but a vast, circular space besieged by the high walls of the coliseum and was semi-closed by a floating, domed ceiling. There were four entrance and exit points, one of which was behind her, and apart from a few spectators, Brea was alone. She felt exposed. If this were a combat situation, she would consider her chances to be extremely low unless she got to cover.

She switched on her sim-pisols and clicked on the small button on the collar of her suit to turn the armor on. She felt a small vibration surround her body and breathed. She then turned her comm-link on and waited for her orders.

 _“Brea, can you hear me?”_ Quistis' voice came.

“Loud and clear, sir.”

_“Switch on the visual link.”_

Brea complied.

_“There... are you ready?”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“Then I’m starting up the simulation.”_

“Standing by, sir.”

* * *

Seifer was watching idly from his armchair. Quistis, sitting up as comfortably as she could, had pulled her hair in a tight ponytail, as she used to do during her classes. The thin, elliptical frames of her glasses held behind them deep blue eyes overflowing with concentration as they focused onto the view screen placed on a mobile easel at the foot of her hospital bed.

He hadn’t seen her this lively and this excited about something since the attack.

Seifer knew that he had nothing to contribute but his silence, and that, he gladly gave.

* * *

Brea cautiously lifted up her sim-pistols to a neutral position and started to walk towards one of the exits. Her every step crunched on the softened gravel and the sound echoed as she walked. She felt the same heightened awareness she felt every time she was out on the field. Sounds, sights, even smells melted into a heavy mix of sensory input. The gates on either sides of her opened and out came the drones. Visually, they were indistinguishable from Estharian soldiers; their appearance was the same, the stances they took were the same, hell, even their weapons, sim-versions of the actual arsenal, looked the same. Four on each side assembled, all carrying axeguns. They arranged themselves in two-by-two squares and began to advance.

_“It's a standard formation. Isolate groups and destroy.”_

“Yes, sir!”

Brea sprinted towards the group on her left, running in an arc to keep herself away from the range of the others, prompting her targets to return the favor. The robots at the front broke away from the formation, allowing those in the rear to stop and take aim for her. Brea saw the opening and lifted her guns. She pulled the triggers, twice on both sides, and the rear robots shut down.

One of the axeguns’ axes came from her right and Brea barely dodged it in time. Spinning around, she rotated three times and then began to run backwards as they pursued, weapons slicing at her.

_“Roll forward and take them both.”_

Brea stopped and without hesitation, threw herself forward. The blades sliced through the air and barely missed her as she rolled twice and stood up, whipping around. Two shots to her left and only one robot was left standing. She took one headshot and disabled the last one of the formation.

_“Watch out!”_

The robot came leaping over the hunched-over hunk of metal that was Brea’s last target, axegun at the ready. Brea leapt to her side, but the blade caught her suit and Brea felt the clamps across the arm engage. Direct hit to the shoulder. She fell down hard, her left hand releasing her sim-pistol, which skittered away.

_“Get up!”_

Brea rolled and barely avoided another strike of the axe. She kept rolling until she found a moment’s opening and got to her feet. She ducked to avoid an axe and used the rewind to bring her gun around and shoot the robot under the chin.

_“Right!”_

Brea spun around and the axe met the just-disabled robot. Brea didn’t even aim, she extended her arm and pulled the trigger.

Six down, two to-

Her right leg’s clamps suddenly engaged and locked it into place. Brea lifted her gun, trying to aim, trying to find the remaining-

_“Dead ahead!”_

Brea pulled frantically, waving her gun in a circle, trying to get at the remaining robots. A choking sensation on her left leg caught her mid-step and her knees buckled. She fell down to her knees and the final blow came and found her right around the collar – it tightened for a few seconds and then, the suit released her entire body. Looking ahead, she saw the mistake – she had gotten one of the robots, but the other had ducked down and had finished the job.

With the simulation concluded, the tagged robots stirred back to life and took their two-by-two formations before deserting the arena.

_“You did good, Brea.”_

Brea sighed.

“Thank you, sir.”

* * *

The view screen went black after Brea severed the link.

Quistis slipped off the headset and sighed contentedly. She caught a glimpse of Seifer, sitting in the guest’s chair with his arms crossed and smiling at her. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re glowing.” he said with a slight, hesitant smile.

“I can be there.” Quistis said, and Seifer could see the tears in her eyes, “I can be there with you.”

“You’re always with me.” He said, hoping that just this once, saying the right thing wouldn’t earn her misplaced scorn.

“I’m lucky that way.” She said, taking off her glasses, “But it’s not the same thing.”

Seifer knew, but didn’t say anything. The field test was a success and she was happy, and he didn’t need anything else.


	5. Suspicion (2 Days to Zero Hour)

**(Deling City, The Presidential Mansion.)**

**(2 Days to Zero Hour)**

Irvine pushed the heavy double doors leading into the President’s office and found Rinoa behind her heavy, Timber oak desk with a copy of the latest Timber Maniacs in her hands. He drew up one of the armchairs circling the round table by the window and sat down, facing her. He waited. He knew that she wouldn't respond until she finished what she was doing, and he was used to that.

When Rinoa finished reading, she set the magazine down onto the small pile of newspapers, magazines and pamphlets cluttered on her desk, and smiled.

“Hello, lover.” she said.

“How’s the Maniacs?”

“Same. Hasn’t changed since the days of my mother. Anyone show up?”

“Nobody.”

“Typical.”

“As in?”

“As in any SeeD would sooner die than to go to the Sorceress. It’s just how they are, it’s who they are. It’s been four days, I would think that at least Winhill’s guard would have fallen in by now.”

“That’s just the thing," Irvine said, "Intel tells me that the Estharian hovercrafts are being called all over Galbadia. They’re taking SeeDs stationed here and moving them to either Balamb or Esthar.”

“Something’s up.” Rinoa said with a sigh, “There’s something Laguna isn’t telling us.”

“He did imply he was taking charge of the situation during the press outing.”

“ _You can count on us,_ sheesh. Big talk for someone who spent his life in a country that once was at the throat of his native land.”

Irvine didn’t say anything to that.

“But it seems to have worked, that’s what bothers me.” She continued, “People got his message, and no matter how I dress mine, they’re going to remember the simple one.”

Irvine waved his hand dismissively, “So, let them. Less to worry about.”

“What if some of them went undercover in Galbadia? What if the Estharian hovercrafts are empty? What if the Balamb Facility is just a cover for a future operation? What if they are immediately fixating on me because I am the most obvious aggressor here? If I had the SeeDs in Galbadia actually manning their designated duty stations, I’d have a basic handle on their movements. I have nothing. I’m blind.”

“For a blind girl, you see a lot.”

“Much appreciated, lover, but that’s not the point.”

Irvine recognized the pattern of speech and woke up to the fact that he was in one of those places that existed between rocks and hard places. Once she started, there’d be no persuading her otherwise.

He changed his angle of approach.

“What about the public?” he asked.

“Nobody suspects a damn thing.” Rinoa said, “Some columnists are even suggesting that Ocean Garden’s supposed neutrality was a questionable policy at best, that their absence wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Columnists..?”

“Something my father used to say... that one could gauge oneself in accordance with the words of columnists when one was in government.”

“I thought there’d be a law for every girl to surpass her father.”

“ _Surpass_ her father, not refuse to learn from his mistakes. My father stopped reading columns right after he occupied Timber, and look where it got him. Retirement in Cupola, in our summer home.”

“Had it coming.” Irvine said.

Rinoa clacked her tongue, “Not sure if that’s any comfort. Anyway, we can’t move just yet. They wouldn’t buy an open move against Esthar, never mind reasonable suspicions. I know firsthand what a defiant public can do.”

“No offense, but Forest groups didn’t do shit until you united them.”

“Irvine, it only takes one person. One person like me, and everything spirals out of control. I can’t have that.”

Irvine couldn’t help but feel a little astonished in the difference between the Rinoa he had first met (stubborn, full of half-baked ideals and halfway declarations) and the Rinoa he was with now (headstrong, crafty, thoughtful.) He remembered her as she ran for president, facing only her father as an opponent, glowing in the lights, swaying the minds of all those listening. It was almost witch-craft.

“I hate this, I hate this!” Rinoa said, exasperated.

Irvine stood up. He walked around the desk and came to her side. He reached and placed his hands on her shoulders and started to rub, gently. Rinoa cooed, relaxing to his touch and he smiled. He loved being able to elicit that sound. Rinoa, in turn, enjoyed his attention and forgot about the nagging thought that the world she had built, the Galbadia she had started to shape was under threat... forgot that the threat was the man she once loved, or thought she loved... forgot that there was little difference now.

“Maybe I shouldn’tve killed all of them.” Rinoa said, “I could’ve used assassins, sharpshooters, actual missiles, anything.”

“There was only one way to be sure without implicating yourself.” Irvine said, “Sink the whole damn thing down. Besides, we are all veterans. Enough cult following to seek revenge.”

“I know.” Rinoa said with a sigh, “I know.”

“Just relax, alright, relax and enjoy this moment.”

Rinoa decided to do just that.

To hell with the corpses floating in the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The town of Cupola is a very nice coastal town, mostly made of retired soldiers (or, more accurately, soldiers lucky enough to retire,) ex-military types or just people who had invested in real estate there. It is one of the towns I have added to the FFVIII world map to make things, within reason, slightly more realistic. This is kind of like how I expanded Timber and how I will be expanding Deling City in the coming chapters.


	6. Like It's the Last Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is sex in this chapter. Just so you know. It's not the best sex scene I've written, but I think it's nice enough to convey what I wanted it to convey.

**(Esthar Presidential Palace, Squall and Selphie’s Room.)**

**(The Last Night.)**

Squall pressed his palm onto the mirror on the door of the suite’s wardrobe. A pale blue light signified the scanning of his palm print, and upon confirmation, the doors hissed open. Squall stripped to his boxer shorts and hung his uniform. On the leftmost side of the bar, hanging from two separate hangers, was his greatcoat and spare uniform. He glanced at the epaulets of the coat, now emblazoned with the shining blue, black and silver of the SeeD insignia, followed on both sides by three blue crosses. The mark of the General.

Selphie, already down to just one of his t-shirts and her underwear, flung her arms around him and pulled him in. She sighed against his back.

“Remember when it was simple?” Selphie asked.

“It never was.”

“It was, kinda. At least then, Rinoa was on our side.”

Squall sighed.

“I wonder if she ever was.” he said.

Selphie let him go, and he turned to face her.

“Are you still wondering?” she asked.

“About the Sorceress Memorial?”

“Yes.”

“I am. I always will.”

Selphie gently caressed his cheek.

“Don’t.” she said, gently.

“I can’t.”

Selphie smiled. Squall knew that smile well, he had had time to learn it.

“I bet I can make you.”

She put one hand on the back of his neck and drew him closer. They kissed. Selphie felt his hands on her cheeks – as always, trying to take control of the situation. She lightly brushed her tongue against his lips and was greeted by him adjusting to this delightful intrusion. His hands slid down her back and to her waist, and he pulled her in as their tongues orbited around one another.

Selphie was the one who pulled away.

“Besides,” she said, pressing her forehead against his, “Worse comes to worst, we’ll all die tomorrow.”

“Selphie, I...”

“No. Not now. Later.”

She smashed her lips against his at full force, caught him off-guard. The desperate pull of her kiss drew him in, and he felt her fling her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. She needed him, in that moment – she felt like if she ever let go, he’d slip away and she’d never find him again.

Squall picked her up and crossed the distance to the bed and they fell, lip-locked and breathing in one another. Their clothes were discarded in a hurry, thrown away to corners they knew they’d scour later. Later. Always, always later.

Squall grabbed her by the back of her neck and drove into her with one sharp, determined thrust. She gasped with pleasure and slight pain from his roughness, sucked in a ragged breath through clenched teeth as he slowly began to move inside her. Her fingers pulled at strays strands of his hair, her hips moved to meet him halfway.

He started to gradually build up speed, driving her mad, making her toes curl as his teeth found the nape of her neck and dug in. Her fingernails dug into his back, but this wasn’t enough for her, this wasn’t enough.

Selphie shifted and wrapped one leg around his waist. She turned him, and he let her. It took some doing, and the flailing awkwardness of it all made her laugh. Once she had him on his back, she adjusted him and enveloped him. She grabbed hold of his wrists and pinned him down. She was driving now. She slowly started to gyrate, looking into his blue eyes, loving everything she saw in them. He tried to move his arms, but she held him down. She smiled and dove for his neck, trailed it with her tongue, up her chin and then, as she started to ride him proper, onto his lips. Squall hungrily took her in, and she let go of his arms. He took her hips and drove her downwards, and she let him take control for a while. He rose to meet her as he pulled her, and she moaned in delight. Gradually, she sat up and threw her head back, stray strands of hair scattering around her face. He rose then, following her, to reach the swaying globes of her breasts. His lips found a nipple and he suckled gently. Selphie whimpered and her hand found his hair and pressed his head closer, as if she was afraid he’d let her go. He moaned as she gyrated her hips, holding onto him for support and enjoying the sensations running through her body, making her skin crawl.

Their balance tipped over and they fell, Selphie laughing and Squall smiling. She laid on her back and he climed on top of her She adjusted herself and drew him in, further in, further than before, harder, harder, oh yes, please don’t stop, _please don’t let me go-_

Squall ground into her, slowly, painfully, delightfully, keeping pulse until Selphie screamed as she shuddered and came, her laughter mixing in with her screaming. She clenched around him and he, breathing out a ragged growl, let himself go, releasing the tension of the past few days, growing numb from head to toe as he did. She felt it spreading inside her warmly and it prolonged her pleasure, making her shiver.

They came to a standstill, limbs entwined, sweat trickling down their skins and still caught up in the afterglow. He withdrew and fell next to her. And when they were spent and basking in the simple joy of having one another near, comfortably naked and blissfully fed, they talked again.

“If we die tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll be alright.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You.” He said, and that was it.


	7. Moving (Zero Hour.)

**(Ocean Garden, Command Center.)**

**(Zero Hour.)**

What used to be the Bridge now was a large, octagonal room, its walls lined with consoles serving many purposes: communications, navigation, the overall structural status of the Garden, engines, weapons consoles and everything in between. There were three different command stations: one was a 3D-projection table in the middle of the room, and the other was weapons control stations on both sides of the viewscreen on the far end. Presently, Xu was looking at the 3D map of Deling City projected on the main command station and Nida was sitting comfortably at the navigation console.

“LG, the Estharian Embassy fell in last night,” communications officer Zan said.

“What is it?” Xu asked.

“The sorceress enforced a mandatory curfew. She said it was because there would be some military exercises tonight.”

Xu raised an eyebrow. Mir, standing on the opposite end of the command station, did the same.

“Is she seeing our move..?” he asked.

“Impossible.” Xu said, “And even if... it won’t do her any good.”

“We still have to consider the possibility.” Mir said, “How big a reserve force do we have, last count?”

“Zero strong. We don’t have a reserve force. Not for this mission.” Xu said, “What we have will be going out there in about twenty minutes.”

“How do you plan to reinforce-“

“You don’t know what SeeD is, do you?”

Mir had to admit that he didn’t know much about SeeD beyond its mission statement and rigorous training methods.

“This is what we do.” Xu said, “We were founded to counter the threat of sorceresses, to prevent another Sorceress War. That we’re in the third one so soon after the second making for an impressive failure is irrelevant to now.”

“How’s this relevant?” Mir asked.

“We’re not an organized army. We don’t have reserves. What we have is out there, because we either succeed, or we die trying.”

“The records show that in Ultimecia’s future, this wasn’t the case.”

“The mission in that particular case wasn’t to win, it was to stall. Accomplished even by dying.”

Mir didn’t say anything.

“We’ve done this sort of thing before.” Xu said.

“With this odds and on this scale, I doubt it.” Mir said, “Unless our records deceive us, you _haven’t_ done this before.”

Xu didn’t feel inclined to argue with that one.

* * *

Brea lit up a cigarette and inhaled deep. The whooshing air of the hangar filled the background and she sucked in breaths with a certain rhythm. Around her were hovercrafts for the assembled SeeDs, some belonging to the force she would be serving with, some not. Some where smoking, conversing or pacing, others were praying and others were simply sitting in silence. Brea, herself, chose to smoke a cigarette.

Selphie, standing next to her, coughed, which prompted Brea to take a few steps away from her, for courtesy’s sake. Selphie was too busy fiddling with the ring on her finger and reciting a childhood prayer, as she always did before an op. Squall delivered a gentle kiss on her head, which made her smile – just knowing he was there helped a great deal. But then again, _Vascaroon, full of grace..._

Squall approached Brea.

“I’ve never seen you smoke before.” He said.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you, sir.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I don’t smoke all that much. Just every once in a while.”

Squall shrugged. “We all have our rituals.”

“I have never seen yours, sir.”

“...except me.”

“If I may ask, why don’t you have one, sir?”

“Because of something Selphie once said to me... for me, the war is never over.”

“...so you don’t have to prepare for it. How accurate, sir.”

Squall sighed.

“I wish we didn’t have to do this.” he said.

“Sir?”

“Nothing. As you were.”

Squall returned to Selphie’s side, left Brea with the quarter of a cigarette in her hand.

* * *

Seifer heard the humming in his ear and noticed that Quistis had just opened their line. He turned his back to his group and walked away. He found a container and put his back to it. He felt a little more secure and a little further from prying eyes.

“Hey.” He said.

_“Hey. Everything set?”_

“Right here? Yeah. Everything’s moving.”

_“I have five eyes.”_

Seifer smiled.

“Guess you’ll tie one or two up watching my back, huh?”

_“I’m sorry.”_

“...for what?”

_“I’ve been such a bitch to you these last few weeks...”_

“Quistis, I-“

_“I don’t want you to go in thinking I don’t care, or that I hate you. I don’t. I want you to know, I want you to hear that I love you.”_

“I know, Quistis.”

_“But I haven’t said it. I haven’t acted like it.”_

“What the fuck do you want me to do, blame you for being hurt? For being damaged? Or for looking for some place to take it out on and going for whoever’s nearest, because who you really want to hurt is out of reach? Think I haven’t been there?”

Silence on the other end.

“I love you, Quistis, but lately, you haven’t been a bitch, just a bit dense.”

Nothing to say.

“Quist?”

_“...I’m here.”_

“Thought I lost you.”

_“You won’t. Just make sure I don’t lose you, either.”_

“I was lost before. Long as you're here, I’ll find my way out. I promise.”

_“I love you.”_

Seifer checked his wrist watch. Five minutes to scramble.

“I gotta go.”

_“Then, go. Make sure you come back.”_

“I have you waiting, of course I will.”

Seifer smiled and Quistis cut the line.


	8. The Deling Offensive, I (Deployment)

Squall opened the hatch of his hovercraft and leapt out into the chill of the night air, gunblade in hand. He was followed closely by Brea, dual pistols at the ready. They were followed promptly by nine full squads, each five strong, as they emerged from their respective APCs. Selphie arrived a minute later, followed by nine squads of her own. Squall frowned. Hardly a formidable force, ninety strong plus three but all that were present were SeeDs as this was hardly a suitable field test for the cadets.

Selphie took her place by Squall’s side and Squall dealt out their marching orders.

“Listen up! We’ll move through the Monument of Triumph in Adamantoise formation, as cohesively as possible. Once we clear to the Deling Square, we’ll split to two groups and both of them will take Grand Mantis formation. The veterans take point, the groups arrange in the order of, front to rear: martial artists, swordsmen, sharpshooters, field medics, field mages. This is mainly an offensive mission, thus, be ready for anything. Squads 1 through 9 are with me, squads 10 through 18 are with Lieutenant General Tilmitt. Our intended destination is the Presidential Mansion and our target is the Sorceress. Everybody got this?”

The ninety-strong force saluted in unison.

“Good. Follow me.”

* * *

The group arranged itself into the formation by forming elliptical rings and an extended tail at the back. The tail was composed of equal parts sharpshooter and swordsmen, and so was the front half of the outer ring. The rest of the outer ring featured swordsmen and martial artists. The middle ring were field medics and field mages, leaving only a small concentration of field mages for the innermost ring. Squall, flanked by Brea, took point and led his group towards the Monument of Triumph, the high, stone arches of Galbadia’s southern entrance in the distance. They were followed by Selphie, gripping her Odineum nunchucks tightly and loving the spiraling blades installed onto the offensive handle, and her group.

They quickly moved through the clearing leading up to Monument. In under a minute, they were standing under the majestic, stone arches illuminated by neatly organized golden lights. Squall felt a faint pain pass through where an ice-spear had been once. It had completely healed, he knew, with barely a scar: but his mind remembered.

He pushed the thought away and concentrated on crossing the distance. He jogged at an even pace, quickly moving through the bottleneck. He felt relieved once they had made it to the vast, circular opening of Deling Square. Selphie’s group broke off from them and moved around the left side while Squall and Brea moved around right. Once the two groups re-united at the beginning of Main Avenue, Squall ordered a halt.

He clicked his comm-link on, prompting Selphie to do the same. Squall said Seifer’s name to establish the connection. After a few seconds of silence, the background noise faded in.

_“Yeah?”_

“We’re in Deling Square. Are you in position?”

_“We’ve just finished landing. The Victoria Street entrance is unguarded.”_

“So was the Monument of Triumph...”

 _“I was just told,”_ Quistis’ voice fell in, _“That Rinoa enforced a curfew for military exercises about half an hour ago. The streets should be empty, but that doesn’t explain the absence of honorary guards.”_

“We better do this quick.” Selphie said, “I don’t like how this is starting to look.”

“Whatever.” Squall said, “The plan is still a go. General out.”

He shut off the comm-link and called Xu.

_“Central Command.”_

“Xu, how close can you bring the Garden?”

_“We can hover just above Deling Square, I think. I’ll have to check it with Nida.”_

“Get as close as you can and keep our hovercraft squadron ready at all times. Keep the pulse batteries trained at the palace.”

_“What’s going on?”_

“The entrances of the city are unguarded. The honorary guards have been relieved. She might be expecting us.”

_“Understood. Just give the word.”_

“Thanks. General out.”

Squall closed off the comm-link and sighed. Whatever they were in for, it was too late to turn back now. They would see this to the end. He had to see this to the end.

He raised his gunblade.

“Let’s move out!”

* * *

Quistis lingered on the line after Squall signed off.

 _“I don’t like this.”_ She said.

“Me neither.” Seifer said, “There is still time to back out but...”

_“But?”_

Seifer clenched his fist.

“I don’t want to. I’ll level this whole fucking city if I have to, whatever it takes to get even.”

A brief silence on the other end.

_“Let’s go then, handsome.”_

Seifer raised his gunblade.

“Let’s move out!”


	9. The Deling Offensive, II (Contact)

The ambient hum of Deling City was only disturbed by the whispers of SeeD formations moving through its streets. Squall found comfort in the presence of Selphie and the ever-present comfort of Brea, but remained on high alert and marched quietly just the same. Selphie fell back to hold her own unit in formation as they moved to the slimmer confines of main avenue and marched as two units following the lead of the General.

“It’s quiet, sir.” Brea said.

“Whatever.” Squall replied, irritated. He focused on moving and increased his speed – he wasn’t jogging, but he wasn’t walking either. The Grand Mantis formation behind him billowed as the SeeDs adjusted their speed to his, and the entire force moved down Main Avenue, growing more and more perturbed by the lack of other sounds, with the lack of inner-city night-dwellers. The homes, shops and restaurants lining up both sides of Main Avenue looked dead with dark windows and silent, cold walls. The city felt like a tomb.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Brea asked.

“Granted.”

“It feels like we’re in the Tomb of the Unknown King.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” he replied.

Squall clicked his headset on and opened a channel to Quistis.

* * *

Quistis watched closely as her stand-in squad’s five-way split screen showed nothing but the deserted, peripheral surroundings of Green Avenue and the central, moving mass of Seifer’s unit. She could hear their footfalls and the hissing mess of background noises in the air around them, but it felt like listening to the absence of sound than any actual movement.

She maneuvered two of her allotted eyes away from the other three and ordered them to do a perimeter check, and to let her see as much as they could. They complied and walked around the force she and Seifer were co-commanding. Their SeeDs were moving forward, using the alleyways in between buildings and interwoven pathways leading up Deling General Hospital. They were flanked on both sides by red brick buildings; houses and backs of restaurants and cafes, looming over them with an oppressive silence.

Static and a sudden beat of background noise faded into her headphones.

 _“Quistis, anything?”_ Squall’s voice came.

“Nothing so far. The city looks deserted.”

_“Can’t be. The Embassy would know about it.”_

“If nobody’s messing with the cameras, I’m seeing an empty city and SeeDs moving out of formation due to physical space being tight.”

_“What do you make of it?”_

“Maybe she feels like she can take us on herself.”

_“That she’s not expecting anybody but us?”_

“That’s what I think.”

_“Keep your comms on.”_

“Will do.”

* * *

Seifer felt something start to claw at her mind the further they moved. Too empty, too quiet, too still... too at rest. The cold walls flanking him, the blank windows watching him, curtains drawn, raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He gripped his gunblade tighter and started to walk more briskly, dragging his forces along. Two SeeDs, both wearing Quistis’ wireless equipment and moving in opposite directions, overtook him and circled around the front of the formation. Seifer raised an eyebrow and clicked on his comm-link. He opened a channel to Quistis.

“Quistis, why did two SeeDs with your equipment just-“

_“I’m doing a perimeter check.”_

“What for?”

Seifer could see the Deling General on the other side of the avenue, a block of white arconcrete rising in the middle of a vast, almost block-wide garden encircling it. Seifer motioned for the SeeDs following him to pick up the pace and gently sprinted across the avenue.

“ _I wanted to see. Is that the Hospital?”_

“We’ll take the garden to my right and slither on past. Seifer out.”

Soon as Seifer closed the channel, the beat of background noise carried Squall’s voice in.

_“Seifer.”_

“Yeah?”

“ _No contact on our end, no encounter. You?”_

“Didn’t you ask Quistis already?”

_“I want to hear it from you.”_

“I’m literally two steps from the hospital. Nothing and nobody to report.”

_“Keep me posted.”_

“Where are you?”

_“Marching down Main Ave.”_

“Hurry up, we’re almost to Caraway Street.”

_“Wait. We’ll be there in a little while.”_

“Yeah.”

* * *

A SeeD sharpshooter lit up a cigarette. He exhaled and, unable to shake the feeling of boredom brought on by the constant, idle march forward, turned to the skies for a bit of entertainment.

Something caught his eye. Movement, above, at one of the windows of the hospital. His cigarette fell from his lips and he shouted at the top of his lungs:

“ _Sharpshooter! Top floor window!”_


	10. The Deling Offensive, III (Skirmish)

The SeeD sharpshooters immediately trained their sights to as many windows as they could cover and managed to get off the first volley of shots before their enemies had a chance. The field mages raised their hands to cast, but the second floor windows exploded outwards with lightning, fire and ice showered those below, barely dispelled by the field medics.

The first floor windows were smashed then, and row after row of martial artists and swordsmen poured out. They charged the formation of sharpshooters. A few barrels pointed down and took a few of those rushing forward, but there were too many, and the barrels of Ocean Garden gunmen were otherwise tied up. They started to pace back, inadvertently spreading out, creating gaps in their formation.

Seifer saw the opening and rushed on ahead, followed by close combat specialists led both by his movements and Quistis shouting orders over the wireless. They bled through the small gaps left in the ranks of sharpshooters to meet their aggressors.

The sound of blades clashing melted into the grunting of fists and kicks thrown, all drowned out by the constant rattling of gunfire. The orderly lines held in the first half-minute of the encounter quickly dispersed into isolated units, seeking cover. Order became chaos as survival took precedent and troops on both sides settled onto one-on-one skirmishes rather than the actual objective. Above the heads of the combatants, different energies of para-magic crackled as both sides of field mages, supported by field medics, tried to overcome the other side.

Seifer saw the problem and shouted at the top of his lungs, in hopes that at least a few would rally to him, and it worked. A few of his (two sharpshooters, three swordsmen, one fighter) and a few of Quistis’ (a sharpshooter, two swordsmen, three fighters and a field mage) came to his side.

“We’re charging the building, come on!” Seifer said and ran on ahead, getting as close to the outer wall as possible, and hoped they would follow.

* * *

Quistis felt the full cast around her leg as she would shackles, and the bed as the post she was chained to. The flat screen in front of her showed a maddening mess of rapidly-moving images depicting nothing but chaos – chaos she couldn’t change, chaos she couldn’t affect. For once she appreciated her right hand being a closed fist – it saved her the effort. She was screaming into the microphone attached to her headset, giving out orders, knowing that her words were getting lost in the interference of the battle.

From one screen, she saw Seifer give a rallying cry. She screamed at anyone who would listen to go to him, and found true joy in seeing one or two comply.

She cursed her leg, cursed her body for being so weak, so fragile so damn treacherous.

The endless rush on her screens reminded her. She quickly switched to Squall’s channel and her heart skipped the beat it took for him to answer. When the background noise fell in, she didn’t wait for his response.

“Squall, it’s a trap!”

* * *

Squall raised his closed fist and the entire troop formation stopped dead.

“Come again?”

_“It’s a trap, this whole thing is a trap! They’re expecting you!”_

“I’ll shift to two streets East.”

_“What part of ‘trap’ seems so difficult to grasp?”_

“I need to secure the objective. General out.”

Squall motioned for their ranks to disperse, follow him and Selphie. He moved towards the next street corner, and then the next. He took a right turn there and had his troops march down a parallel of Main Ave instead. The formations broke then, the street being a bit too narrow for them to maintain two separate Grand Mantises side-by-side. Both remained somewhat orderly until the mid-point of the street. The group had packed into the space somewhat evenly, and with the General coming to a sudden halt, so did the troops.

Squall clenched his teeth. He shouted an order.

“Hold ranks!”

Quite rapidly, a sizeable Galbadian force built up down the street, blocking their way. Squall lost count, but if the width was anything to go by, there’d be a few hundred of them. The Galbadian soldiers seemed to hold no formation, they were simply standing in an outwards V, like a spear aimed at the forty-five strong group of SeeDs. Their sharpshooters scattered, and that was the cue of their mass to charge the SeeD formation head-on, roaring a sweeping battle cry. As the first bits of para-magic scattered into the air, staying off their intended paths, the densely packed formations tore into each other and got intertwined in a mess of swords, fists and lives. The crowds of both sides melted into an incoherent mass and started to gradually scatter the ranks in an irregular circle rippling outward from the street. Squall barely managed to stay Selphie’s side as their forces melted into the tidal wave of their enemies.

Brea was completely lost in the shuffle – she got locked in a sword fight, with a skilled swordsman and didn’t notice that she was yards away from her General until she was trying to make for her enemy’s throat.

* * *

Sharpshooters emerged from the top floor windows of the surrounding buildings, weapons of various calibers and functions prepared, but they were spotted by the SeeDs below, who pre-empted their would-be killers in a scattered hail of bullets. They moved closer to one another almost by instinct, moving through the crowd and to the sides. A few fell victim to swordsmen seeking easy targets, but those who made it, shot the locks of the buildings they had found and rushed inside. They climbed the stairs up to the topmost floors, gauged the position of their targets and kicked down the doors to homes and found no families inside, no tenants. Some cursed, having understood that they had blindly walked into a trap, and some simply made quick work of the unfamiliar space to find windows. Once they did, they smashed the frames and got into position.

They found the enemy sharpshooters taking potshots at the crowd below. They aimed, each one choosing a target to duel with, and fired. The first set of shots took down three Galbadian sharpshooters, but failed to kill the rest, and that was when the firefight began in earnest. The sound of gunshots, close as their heartbeats for the gunmen, were unheard by the crowd below, and the bullets traveling to either sides of the crossfire went unseen.

The SeeDs below, fighting in the street, oblivious to the bullets being exchanged above their heads, found themselves unable to advance, only to hold their own. The greater objective meant nothing and there was no army, no assembled force of neatly-numbered squads, just the battle of every man against every man, and every man for himself. The battlecouldn’t be contained to the street and it gradually scattered, the soldiers on both sides growing scarcer in numbers as the crowd expanded outward, leaving space for others to maneuver in.

Brea began with the enemy soldier coming at her to seek the General.

* * *

Brea Willings holstered a gun, pulled out her dagger and sliced the throat of the Galbadian swordsman open, finding purchase in the inch-wide slice of exposed skin under the helmet; she bent her elbow, shifted her body and, using the soldier's shoulder as leverage, sliced through the flesh with little resistence. His sword fell down and the soldier spasmed, gurgling, which elicited a kick from Brea to his knees. It sent him to the ground, and Brea stepped over him, leaving him to be trampled.

Through the chaos of the crowd, she was trying to discern some surface detail that might tell her where the General was, anything at all, but she couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t see anyone-

Brea barely managed to dodge a hefty kick delivered by a Galbadian martial artist, who simply swung his foot in her direction without a beat to respond. Brea spun around and shifted through the crowd, passing by one para-magic duel where the casters were at arm’s length of one another, and two martial artists trying to wear each other down. The martial artist that was fixed on her was in pursuit, moving through the gaps between individual duels with ease.

By pure coincidence, Brea found her General tearing into a Galbadian soldier coming up from behind Lieutenant General Tilmitt, who was dispatching one of her own. She shouted his name and got his attention.

“There is no communication, sir!” Brea said, “We’ve lost the squadron!”

“Fuck this!” Squall said, as he pulled off his comm-link, “Selphie!”

“Don’t tell me...” Selphie said, pulling back her weapon.

“We’re charging the Mansion, just us three. Brea, watch our backs.”

“Yes, sir!”


	11. The Deling Offensive, IV (Stalemate)

“LG?”

Xu turned her attention to the SeeD manning the weapons console on the right, trying to discern how to best interfere with the situation below them. The option of leveling the damn city was becoming more appealing by the minute.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You have to see this.”

Xu left a somewhat nervous-looking Mir at the command station and came up the three steps and to the navigation section.

“What is it?” she asked.

“See, just above the Mansion.”

Xu looked on ahead. All she could see was Deling City, in the dark, illuminated briefly and in small places by gunfire and the use of para-magic.

“What am I looking at?”

“I see it too.” Nida said, “There’s something weird about the air above the Mansion, it looks... denser, if that makes sense.”

"Denser how?"

"Like heat waves."

“How is that-“

Xu saw a brief flash in the distance. A line made of light tore through the night air and came ripping through like a burning arrow. It scattered right above the Command Center observation window, rained down bright sparks. Xu felt fear grip her throat and choke her, but there was no time. Flashes of light, following two vertical lines, forming an inverse V followed the initial one. Xu realized what it was, but not in time.

“Brace for impa-“

The glass shattered and the shards cut into her skin.

* * *

The first volley from the Galbadia Garden’s batteries found their marks. The others only missed because Nida had instinctively made an evasive move. The artillery shells dug into the armor plating of Ocean Garden, but in the end, only made dents. Those detonating shook the Garden, but didn’t pierce through.

The Ocean Garden rotated back to its original position and brought its batteries to bear. One order from Xu, and the batteries came to life, their power cells humming. The barrels, fizzling with energy, turned to meet their target and, after two full seconds, discharged bright white pulse energy in screeching, long beams following glowing particles. The shots found purchase, a few of them tore clean through the external plating of Galbadia Garden. The command center of Ocean Garden witnessed small explosions, orange eruptions floating in the air, before bright static scattered across a just above the Mansion, like cracks on glass, and revealed Galbadia Garden, hovering.

Before they had a chance to fire a second volley, the muzzle-flashes of Galbadian artillery alerted them to a second wave. The Ocean Garden rotated, again, to the right, and most of the shells, the armor stopped – it was the armor-piercing incendiaries that they didn’t. The shells entered the Garden and torched hallways, finding no students, but dealing negligible damage to the structure.

As the Ocean Garden rotated back into firing position, Xu shouted for them to cut down the artillery of their target. Skilled fingers danced on the consoles and adjusted the aim of the pulse batteries. The batteries screeched and fired at the same time as Galbadia Garden’s artillery. The pulse particles tore right through the fired shells, lining their flight path with balls of orange light, and exploded on both sides of Galbadia Garden. Xu screamed in delight.

“Nida, bring us closer! Weapons, fire at will!”

* * *

Galbadia Garden’s nose slope groaned as armored plates slowly slid open. Ocean Garden was hovering closer, moving across the city, its batteries alive and bright with their now constant, erratic assault. The armor plating on the military academy did next to nothing to stall the onslaught, but having critical systems in the lower rear portions of the Garden did.

As Ocean Garden approached, the plates ground to a halt. In between them was a hangar, housing the only thing the soldiers inside were counting on.

* * *

“What the fuck is that..?”

Xu squinted to see what Nida had mentioned. Galbadia Garden’s center seemed to have... opened up. There was bright light coming from it, and for a moment, Xu feared the worst: a pulse battery, that size? All it’d take was one shot and...

“Oh shit, oh _shit,”_ Nida took the manual control wheel and turned it sharply to his right, shaking the entire Garden and tilting it slightly to the side. Xu barely managed to keep her footing, Mir fell.

“What is it!?” Mir asked, trying to stand.

* * *

The six-tube gatling barrel extended from the hangar. The base of the weapon served as a hybrid between a clip and a bullet belt: a long line of shells of all kinds lay on a belt extending around the Garden, using the space in between floors, and ended up at the weapon. Inside the base was a lever system that would rhythmically lift shells up to feed the barrel, and descend to load up the next one.

The barrels stopped extending and were locked into place. The operator, a soldier who knew intimately only how to begin firing and how to stop, promptly pressed the red button and locked it into place.

The first shot boomed in the hangar, and was followed by the metallic whining of the gatling barrel rotating. The soldier, through his earmuffs, knew that this sound would follow a precise rhythm until either their enemy was down, or they were out of shells.

* * *

One, two, three, four, five...

“The fuck is that!?” Mir asked, “What the fuck-“

“Gattling barrel, they’re go-“ the console in front of Zan bleeped, “We lost batteries one and four!”

Xu went to the central console and opened up a channel to Seifer.

“Seifer, how close are you to the objective?”

_“We got held up in Deling General, we can’t fucking move, why?”_

Xu switched channels.

“Squall! Come in, Squall!”

Static.

Xu switched channels.

“Quistis?”

“ _I’m trying to move a squad out of Deling General, I can’t put together one, we can’t-“_

Xu cut the line.

“Nida, maneuver us into firing position!” she oredered.

“That’d risk exposing the OGC to their direct line of fire, I can’t!”

Xu slammed her fist onto the console. In the background, the pounding of artillery shells against the armored exterior of Ocean Garden were counting the beats – one-two-three-fourfivesixseveneight...

_Fuck this._

Xu tapped on the console and opened up a call to all channels and hoped her message would be heard.


	12. Face to Face (The Final Charge, I)

Squall walked up to the double doors, followed by Brea and Selphie. Brea overtook them and took point. She delivered a hefty kick and the doors swung open to both sides, revealing the empty foyer. There were two sets of stairs on both sides, leading to the upper floor, where Rinoa’s office was, the railing beginning with tall, slim statues of angelesque figures. The main hallway continued in the middle, going on into darkness.

Nobody appeared to be home.

They stood there, Brea’s guns trained at come-what-may, Selphie’s spell at the tip of her tongue and Squall’s gunblade ready to strike, but there was only silence interrupted by the distant sounds of their war.

“I don’t like this, sir.” Brea said, “Nobody’s guarding the Sorceress.”

“She’d be this arrogant.” Selphie said.

Squall saw it a split second before it happened, and he barely had time to grab both of them and hit the deck. Blue-green energy shot right above their heads and scattered upon hitting the doors, showering the ground with sickly-green bits of para-magic.

Brea rolled, took aim, felt the triggers under her fingers, but before she could fire, she felt energy reverberating right beside her, and heard Selphie’s snarl.

_“Stop.”_

Squall got to his feet, gunblade at the ready, and Brea went up to one knee, both guns still trained at their aggressor.

“Who..?”

“Kinneas.” Selphie snarled. She brought her nunchuks to bear, her eyes sliding down the cutting edges of the weapon. “She was defended after all... by her Knight.”

“What was that?” Brea asked.

“Dark ammo.” Selphie replied, “He’s not man enough to kill us.”

“Do you have this?” Squall asked.

“Oh, you bet your ass I do." Selphie said with a wicked grin, "That was a LVL4 Stop spell, he’s _not_ going anywhere.” Selphie looked over her shoulder, “It won’t take long, lover. Go.”

“Come on, Brea.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Irvine was wearing what Selphie recognized to be a Field Marshal’s uniform. His shiny Exeter, now nothing but a useless chunk of metal in frozen hands, was cocked and ready to fire again. From the position of his body, she deduced that he would come running at them. She sighed in exasperation – typical. Attempting to charge them with a ranged weapon, the fucking idiot.

Stop allowed the victim to breathe, to see, hear and let their hearts beat – it only stopped all muscular movement. LVL4 Stop needed a Dispel to completely dissipate.

Selphie decided not to prolong this. She took two steps back, considered his height. She swung and the nunchuck’s cutting edges tore right through his cheek, spilling his blood. She saw the mangled flesh, and all it did was to bring her hatred and bitterness towards him bubbling to the surface. The next blow tore a hefty chunk out of his right arm, and the next one, his chest. She kept the strikes consistent, not enough for him to bleed out, but to injure him enough to warrant a hospital stay. A _long_ hospital stay. She went on with wild abandon, cutting and slashing her way around his body, loving every piece of harm that came to him, every piece that he _deserved._

She stopped abruptly when Irvine started to resemble a rag doll that had been put through the grinder. Her nunchucks were stained with blood and it was dripping onto the carpet. She got in his face, her eyes staring right into his. She smiled.

“Guess you shouldn’tve gone running to the Sorceress, you _pussy_.”

Selphie landed her last blow on his right leg, tore through his quadriceps.

Something fell hard upstairs. Selphie tapped Irvine’s forehead and whispered,, almost lovingly, _“Dispel.”_

Irvine crumbled onto the floor, a mess who couldn’t even talk due to his left cheek hanging in strips from his face.

“See ya.” Selphie said, and she ran.

* * *

With Squall on point and Brea following, they rushed upstairs and Squall led her down the hall and towards the doors of the office. He braced himself, and with a solid kick, sent them crying open. Brea was only two steps behind. She stepped forward and crashed into something right at the entrance and the impact knocked her onto her back. Squall stopped mid-step just ahead of her and turned to see her standing right outside the office. There was nothing but thin air between them.

“Brea? Come on, why are you-“

“I can’t, sir!”

Brea got up, stepped forward forward and was repelled again. The points that her body connected to the barrier blurred in circles, like heat waves. A barrier.

“What the-“

“Surprise, darling.”

Squall turned, bringing his gunblade to bear, and only had time to block a sideways blow. He stood there, gunblade locked with another, facing down Rinoa. Rinoa moved, Squall saw it coming and he turned to his left to avoid the coming kick. Without skipping a beat, he turned once more and swung. Rinoa raised her own gunblade without even following his blow and parried it. She turned, swinging. Squall lifted his gunblade to a full vertical position and countered. He pushed her weapon away, shifted, strafing and came around the other way, only to meet with her weapon once more. He pushed her, she stepped back. They stood a little ways apart, their gunblades pointed at each other, their tips touching.

“Nice gunblade.” Rinoa said, “New?”

“Yes.”

“It’s lighter.” She said matter-of-factly, “And made of Odineum, if the sick feeling I get when it’s this near is anything to go by.”

“So you finally decided to take me on.” Squall said.

“You already lost.”

“Squall!”

Both Squall and Rinoa turned their heads to the door to see Selphie standing there. She tapped on the barrier, saw it vibrate in the empty space. She placed one hand on it, inhlade, and whispered _“Dispel.”_

Nothing happened.

“What..?” her mouth gaped open.

“Para-magic won’t do you any good.” Rinoa said, “Not against me.”

“But the ring...” Selphie started, but stopped herself before she could go any further.

“Oh, the Odineum rings?” Rinoa grinned and Selphie felt a shiver travel down her spine, “The rings suppress _pure_ magic, it’s true. But that barrier is red magic. Odineum is useless against it.”

“We are still armed with-“

“Odineum weapons?" Rinoa laughed, "They certainly look the part, don't they? They're diluted. Odineum isn't strong enough for anything more than a dagger. Has to be cut with adamantine and a number of other materials which, you don't have to be an alchemist to know, lessens the impact. Yes, I did my homework.”

Squall clenched his teeth.

“Odine...” he snarled, “That motherfucker.”

Rinoa nodded. “From what Odine tells me, Odineum has a metallurgical frequency. It resonates with pure magic fields but, even if those were the real deal, it does nothing with red magic. Shame he left that tidbit out.”

“I’ll kill that fuck!” Selphie screamed.

“Enough talk." Rinoa shot her a dismissive look before turning her attention back to Squall, "Let’s see if you really are as good as you look.”

“Happy to oblige.”

Squall swung.


	13. The Deling Offensive, V (Retreat)

_“All units, this is Lieutenant General Xu. The op is terminated. Retreat. I repeat, the op is terminated, retreat to the rendezvous points at the East, West and Southern city exits for extraction.”_

* * *

Quistis was screaming.

“No! No! No! _No!”_

Her rage, confined to her hospital bed, was eating at her mind from the inside. Her black fist pounded the bed railing in front of her with relentless force and repeatedly – her shoulder quickly grew sore of the movement but her hand, feeling nothing, kept assaulting the metal until and even after her wrist broke. Quistis screamed at the top of her lungs at the screen, felt it tear through her throat, hit the tray but found no satisfaction. Nothing was taking away her rage, and everything that didn’t ease it, fed it.

“No! No! No!”

_Not after everything, not after what she’s done to me, what she’s done to all of us, not now, not ever and no! No! INot now, you can’t pull us back like this!_

Quistis screamed and screamed and screamed her rage, and nobody heard it but her.

* * *

Seifer plunged his gunblade into the turning sharpshooter, but the death-grip closed his fingers and the rifle went off right by his shoulder, blowing out his eardrum. The ringing in his left ear left him off balance for a few seconds, and he struggled to stand strong enough to pull his weapon out of the struggling Galbadian soldier.

Seifer saw muzzle-flash in the hallway, but only heard the gunshots as deep drum beats in the white noise ringing in his ear. He stumbled forward, bloodied gunblade in hand and legs slightly off-balance and onto the hallway. He collided with a Galbadian martial artist who swung as best a kick as he could in the narrow hallway, which Seifer dodged. Then came three punches, which masked a kick that landed on his chest and threw him back into the room, into the space between hospital beds watching each other.

Seifer rolled and pushed the ground, using it as a booster to launch himself towards the martial artist, who came with a spinning kick, but missed when Seifer turned sideways and followed it up with an upward slash. The blow connected and tore the Galbadian’s shoulder clean off and disabled his left arm. Seifer found his footing, turned, stepped forward, brought his gunblade about and sliced at the throat of his enemy. The blade connected and sent the Galbadian soldier stumbling away, trying to hold his throat closed as blood came gushing out of the wound.

Seifer felt the sounds begin to claw at his perception. He waited, and after a few moments, he could at least hear everything, albeit buried underneath a droning weight.

_“All units, this is Lieutenant General Xu. The op is terminated. Retreat. I repeat, the op is terminated, retreat to the rendezvous points at the East, West and Southern city exits for extraction.”_

Seifer rushed out to the hallway. From both sides of it, he could hear the slowly dying sounds of the struggle. He picked his left and ran down, feeling his boots slide slightly on the white tiles. He made the turn and encountered two SeeDs standing back-to-back, parrying the thrusts of two Galbadian soldiers each. Seifer came swinging and tore right into one of them. The knees of his target bent the wrong way, and as Seifer pushed him down, he felt the bones snap. The SeeD he had helped, now down to one startled opponent, made quick work of his enemy. With him down, they turned to the remaining two and swiftly dispatched them.

Seifer tapped the comm-link and opened the general channel.

“Everyone, this is Seifer Almasy, repeating the order in case you haven’t heard it, or were too tied up – rally outside the hospital in two minutes. We are pulling out and retreating to the extraction point outside the Western entrance of Deling City. Those who can’t make it, you’re on your own.”

He found the two SeeDs in the hallway glaring at him.

“Fucking move.” Seifer said.

* * *

The shells were pounding on the floating fortress, shaking it and everyone inside it. Onetwothreefourfive...

“Nida, pull us out of here!" Xu commanded, holding onto the main console for support, "Zan, Lea, can you lay down some cover fire?”

“We lost five pulse batteries LG,” Lea said, fingers frantically tapping on her console, “The remaining three won’t make much difference.”

“Battery seven ready.” Zan said, “The other two are at your-“

“I know where they fucking are.” Lea said.

“Fire at will!” Xu said, “Nida, step on it!”

“I’m steering, Xu,” Nida said, “If you think I can increase our speed by willing it, be my fucking guest!”

“What about the rendezvous point?” Mir asked, “Where will the hovercraft squadrons go? How will they-“

“They all have a lock on our GPS, they’ll find us.” Xu said through clenched teeth, “They have to. We can’t stay here, not with that thing pounding on us!”

The whining of pulse batteries reverberated through the garden and Xu prayed to Hyne and Vascaroon for at least one of them to hit something, anything, of consequence. Please, make this one count, please...

Lea squealed in delight and threw a fist into the air.

“Take _that_ you dickless mother _fuckers_!” she screamed.

“Direct hit!” Zan said, “You got their fuck-me cannon! Yes! I could fucking kiss you right now!”

“Thank _fuck_ for that...” Nida said, “We can make the full-turn instead of trying to strafe our way out of this... yes. We’re out.”

Xu wished she could believe that, but her frustration only allowed her to focus dully on the sight of the lights of Deling City flickering as the Garden rotated. Once what the observation window showed nothing but the plains outside Deling City, Xu felt that it was time for her, too, to retreat.


	14. Duel (The Final Charge, II)

Squall let loose and held nothing back. He came at Rinoa with a seemingly endless series of swings, thrusts and arcs, moving at top speed and giving her no quarter. Rinoa, for her part, contended herself with blocking and parrying each blow coming her way, and was light on her feet. Selphie, watching from the outside, saw that Rinoa was leading Squall around in a circle, masterfully dancing around him.

Squall stopped abruptly and leapt back. Rinoa took the bait and pounced, lifting her gunblade above her head to bring it down. Squall blocked, and shifted the incline of his gunblade. Rinoa slipped to his right and Squall let the motion carry the cutting edge of his weapon in a downwards arc. He felt it slice through something that offered little resistance and continued the swinging motion with his arm. The gunblade drew a graceful arc in the air, tracing the previous swing in the opposite direction, and came down.

Rinoa parried, rolled back and kicked the ground. Squall shifted, and Rinoa’s gunblade missed him by a hair’s breadth. Rinoa rolled, got to her feet, and stood with an opening stance.

“You’re good.” Squall said.

“I hold my own.”

“Barely.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Fuck you!”

Rinoa crossed the distance in an instant and came at Squall with a flurry of decent moves, all of which he countered with little difficulty. He stood his ground, letting her dance around him and never attempting to lead. He settled into the ease of the defensive approach, waiting for his time to strike.

Rinoa took a side-step, pulled her gunblade back, readying for a thrust. Squall wound the blow, ready to strike, and jabbed his gunblade forward, the blade-tip aimed squarely at Rinoa’s cherubic cheeks.

Rinoa’s gunblade came out of nowhere and with a wide swing, deflected his thrust. Squall almost stumbled forward, having put all his power into the move, and Rinoa used it to deliver a punch to his gut.

Red energy exploded and Squall felt three ribs crack with the impact. He stumbled, pulling his gunblade back, but Rinoa’s blade rose and stopped it before he could. They stood, blades locked... his blade tip down.

Rinoa smiled and Squall knew that it was over.

He had seen that smile before. During many a Triple Triad game. That was the smile she’d flash if she was sure her next move could win her the game.

Squall knew. She had won. The whole gunblade showdown, despite how good she was with it, had been just a ruse. Something to make him believe he was winning, that he had a shot. The trap wasn’t for them. The trap was for _him._ It had sprung the moment he had passed the barrier and he had been too stupid, too goddamn stupid, to see it.

The spell exploded in his chest in a shower of bright red energy and threw him towards the small, round table in the corner. The table broke to splinters upon his landing, and Squall felt the ground underneath him. His gunblade had skittered off somewhere. His hands were empty. He looked up, trying to reel himself in.

Rinoa, still holding her weapon, stood above him and smiled. The last thought Squall had was how much he wanted to tear her lips from her face.

* * *

Brea saw Squall fall and immediately turned. Selphie leapt at the barrier, but Brea slid in between her and the invisible wall. Selphie crashed into her. Brea used this moment to grab hold of her arms, in trying to restrain her. Selphie was squirming, screaming. Her hand was reaching out, fingers stretched to their limits, and they were grasping at nothing. Brea was holding her in a vice grip.

“No! Squall! _Squall!”_ Selphie screamed.

Brea bit back a teardrop. Not now. Instead, she said:

“There’s nothing you can do to help him, sir!”

“Let me go! Brea, _fucking let me fucking go! Squall!”_

“ _Sleep._ ”

The spell caught Selphie off-guard, and before she could protest, a world of black was draped over her consciousness. She slumped in Brea’s arms, who bent down, adjusted herself and shouldered the Lieutenant General. She then turned and saw Sorceress Rinoa gently smiling at her from the other side of the office. She had Squall’s gunblade in her hand, and was towering over his body. Brea saw him: beaten, unconscious, sprawled out. At the Sorceress' feet.

At the Sorceress' mercy.

“Go, little soldier.” Rinoa, said “Get her out of here.”

Without a word, Brea turned around and carried Selphie out of the Palace. Every step of the way, Selphie was murmuring his name in her sleep.

* * *

Upon exiting the mansion, Brea gently set Selphie down and went fumbling in her uniform’s pockets for the comm-link. She located it in the left breast pocket and took it out. It was already tuned to their own frequency, all she needed to do was say, out loud, which unit she wanted to communicate with.

“Ocean Garden Command, come in, Ocean Garden Command.”

 _“This is OGC, who’s this?”_ Xu's voice answered.

“LG, this is Brea Willings.”

“ _Brea, what the fu- where are you?”_

“Outside the Presidential Mansion, sir. Sir, I-”

_“I terminated the op, I already gave the order to retreat, why weren’t your comms on? What happened?”_

Brea clenched her teeth.

“General Leonhart has been captured.”

A moment’s silence.

_“Eastern entrance of Deling City, it’s down Broadwalk Avenue. There’s a hovercraft waiting for just this kind of shit. Go.”_

“Understood, sir. I have Lieutenant General Tilmitt with me.”

_“Looks like you’re going to have to carry her.”_

“Will do, sir. Brea Willings out.”


	15. The Deling Offensive, Final (Extraction)

Deling City West, end point of Victoria Street.

Seifer cleared the gates of the city with his unit in pursuit, and wondered why this act of running away felt so familiar, yet so strange: the feeling if failure had never been this strong before - nor the thought of having lost this damning. Yet, he sprinted right out of the gates without a second glance back and hoped against hope that everybody had made it. A small voice in his head kept reminding him that he had left behind the corpses of SeeDs foolish enough to count on him.

His unit stumbled forward with him, some of them clutching at their own wounds and others carrying their friends along. They dispersed towards the waiting APC hovercrafts in swarms. Seifer lingered, trying to see if they had all made it back, trying to count but knowing that he wouldn’t be able to.

He felt tired. He felt so very tired.

* * *

Deling City South, other side of the Monument of Triumph.

The leaderless SeeD poured out from under the arches, directed slightly by those who had risen to the occasion and had tried to fill the void left by the General’s absence. Self-appointed squad leaders, trying their best to command squads of varying size, shouted orders, pointing towards different APCs and commanding such-and-such to go there, while so-and-so went to that other one over there. Very few heard their orders, and from those who did hear, very few chose to obey them. They had been ordered by the LG to get to their hovercrafts and to them, the need for some of them to control the situation didn’t amount to shit. They had their orders.

The SeeDs settled into their seats and heard the hatches hiss closed, and their hearts sank together. Later, when they had time to dwell on it, some would claim that the General had abandoned them, so had LG Tilmitt and that red-headed girl that followed him everywhere.

Others would say that the silence that had settled in was sadder and more terrible than anything else they had experienced before it.

* * *

Deling City East, the end of Broadwalk Avenue.

Brea, carrying Selphie on her shoulders, stumbled out into the clearing and found a single hovercraft waiting for her. There were four SeeDs, two of them sharpshooters, waiting for her. The sharpshooters immediately took aim with their Ulysses rapids. In the background, they could hear the floating engines of Galbadia Garden slowly fading out.

Brea ran straight to the hovercraft, and the SeeDs flocked to her immediately. Two of them took Selphie off of her shoulders and the other two escorted her into the hovercraft. The hatch closed shut after Brea and the hovercraft shook as it was lifted off the ground. Brea peered out the side window and saw the Presidential Mansion in the distance. Her fingers slid on the cold glass.

“Are you alright, sir?” one of the SeeDs asked her.

Brea glared at him as if he had just asked her if she was breathed.

“I’m fine.” She said, “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke, sir.”

Brea leaned back, one eye watching the Presidential Mansion lagging behind and melting into the skyline of Deling City. Then, she let go of the breath she had been holding in.


	16. The Victory Speech

**(Deling City, The Presidential Palace, The Press Room. Galbadian News Network.)**

The podium is set against the backdrop of the United Galbadia flag. There is a tangled mess of microphone stands right in the middle of the symbol of Gabladian unification, and it is waiting silently.

President Heartilly, wearing her black suit and carrying a red rose on her lapel, a Galbadian custom for mourning or great sadness, steps up. She stands before the microphones, folds her hands behind her back, sighs and begins to speak.

“My fellow Galbadians. Tonight, I come before you with grave news. It saddens me to say that a few hours ago, Deling City was invaded by a group of rogue SeeDs who attempted to take my life. I had received word of such an attempt, but hadn’t believed it – but it was erring on the side of caution that forced my hand to evacuate the city. The possible skirmish would have damaged the homes and lives of many Galbadians, had it not been for this miraculous bit of foresight.”

She sighs. It is an emotinal moment for her. She looks tired.

“But, despite our and Galbadia Garden’s best efforts, our aggressors did manage to severely wound Field Marshal Kinneas and deal a significant amount of property damage. Tonight, Deling City and Galbadia was under attack.”

She pauses.

“Unfortunately, we do not yet know the motivation behind this attack, nor do we have any information regarding who might have facilitated it.” Her eyes –eerily- dart towards the camera and she looks at the watcher dead in the eye, “It is being looked into, with every resource we have.”

She gives a moment for it to sink in.

“I will not let this attack against myself and our nation stand. I promise you, Galbadia, that those who would seek to do us harm will be found, and they will be punished. There will be a press conference tomorrow to answer any questions you might have. For now, good night.”

President Heartilly turns and leaves and the screen cuts to the late night news studio.


	17. Aftermath

**(Esthar Presidential Palace, The Octagon Office.)**

**(After the Fall.)**

_“...they will be punished.”_

Laguna tapped on the off button and the flat screen went black. He ran a hand through his hair. He reached for the bottle of gin sitting on his desk and poured himself a tall glass. It seemed as good a time as any to start drinking; in fact, he couldn’t think of a better time. He knocked the glass back, felt the sleek liquid slide down his throat. He poured himself another. The silence of his office allowed his thoughts to run wild, and he tried to get them into some kind of order with another glass. The second glass chased the third and as he poured the forth, the doors of his office slid open with a hiss, and Selphie came stomping in.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing just fucking sitting there!?” she shouted, “We should be out there, _you_ should be out there with every fucking thing you have! You could have backed us up, you could have had our fucking backs!”

“Selphie...”

“No! No! Fuck no, I’ve heard it all! Hyne, I used to think you were it! A hero, _my_ hero, salt of the fucking earth! But look at you – just a bureaucrat sitting behind that damn desk, showing me red tape every time shit needs to be done!”

Laguna drained the fourth glass. His hands were shaking slightly.

“I’ve heard the why we can’ts and the why we won’ts, but fuck all of that, all of it – what I want to hear from you is what you’re going to do to save your son! You owe it to us! You owe it to _me!_ ”

Something snapped in his head. His voice, Selphie found, was surprisingly loud when he put his lungs into it:

“Do you really think that if I could do anything right this second, I would be sitting here, drinking it down? That’s not just your lover out there, that’s my _son!_ Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to!?”

Selphie fell silent, taken aback by his outburst. He continued.

“If you want a chance at saving Squall, if you really want to save him and not point fingers and shout about what the fuck you think you’re entitled to, you’ll listen now, and listen _good.”_

Selphie felt small, as if she had shrunken before the rage of the man before him. The anger of a father who had lost his child dissipated every ounce of anger she herself felt.

“If he’s not dead already, we use any means necessary to get him back and if he is already dead, we will stop at nothing to destroy those who killed him – but for me to be able to do that, I have to _sell_ this idea! Sell it to the parliament, because my hands are tied. I can’t just decide out of the fucking blue to mount a full-scale occupation of Deling and expect to get away with it!”

“We already-“

“That was _you!_ SeeD! I can’t send the Estharian military to back you up unless the parliament gives me the go-ahead!”

“You-“

“Shut the fuck up, do you know who I am!? My status as the president still _depends_ on the parliament wanting me here, and for that, I need to play it their way! A vote of no confidence and you’d not only lose me, but you’d lose your whole _fucking_ chance of doing anything – and who’s to say that my replacement won’t extradite you on the spot, just to avoid a major conflict? Or just to please some big whig fuckhead who's sitting there, safe on his ass, and spewing bullshit!?”

Laguna paused. Selphie felt too afraid to move.

“My hands are tied.” He repeated, “Great Hyne, I can’t do anything... he’s out there and I can’t do anything...”

Selphie reached out and before she could even touch him, Laguna pulled her in. Selphie could feel his sobs wracking his body, and she held on as tightly as she could as the President wept. She clenched her teeth and held him tightly as he cried, her own tears streaming quietly down her cheeks.

Laguna eventually gently pushed her away and dried her tears. They stood there, eyes red, and glared at each other.

“I can use summa that gin.” Selphie said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “If you can spare it.”

“I think there’s a little left for the both of us.”

Laguna turned her back to pour the drinks and Selphie clenched her teeth to keep her sobs down – that two-second window was all she felt she could afford to get it out.

Laguna turned around and found her simply standing there. He handed her a glass. They drank in silence.

“Do you think-“ Selphie began.

“We will.” Laguna said, “So long as I draw breath, believe that we will.”

Selphie wished that she could.


	18. Traitors

Quistis was walking slowly, but she was walking. With her good hand, she was holding the walker, which stood on four mobile legs and slowly adjusted itself to her balance. On her right arm, supporting her through the sling was Seifer, helping her, being and becoming her right leg. Her right hand was in a cast trying to settle her wrist, and she didn’t know why they bothered. Despite the difficulty, despite sparing most of her concentration for simply staying on her foot, she found it liberating to be able to move beyond her hospital bed with nobody but Seifer by her side.

With every step, she felt his hands support her weight and felt more grateful with each inch conquered. She knew that the past few weeks had been hell for him, and their defeat four days ago had only made it worse.

The very memory of it reverberated through her mind and made her clench her teeth. Seifer sensed her tense up under his grip and stopped, prompting her to do the same.

“I’m sorry.” Seifer said.

Quistis’ jaw dropped.

“...for what?” she asked.

“If I hadn’t gotten caught up at the hospital, we could have backed Squall up.”

“You were great out there.” Quistis said.

“Weren’t you-“

“You tied one of my eyes up watching your back.” Quistis said with a smile, “I followed you into the hospital... so to speak.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“He got held up at the second floor.”

“Oh... Still. I could have done better.”

“We all could have done better.” Quistis said, “It’s not a question of that. What matters is, you did great.”

“I wish...”

Quistis, seeing that this wasn’t the time to win the argument, let it drop and concentrated on walking. It took them five minutes to clear the last stretch to the arching, adamantine double doors of Odine’s lab.

“Any idea why we’re meeting in Odine’s lab?” Seifer asked.

Quistis cocked her head towards the doors.

“Let’s find out.”

The blast doors groaned open slowly, revealing a large room filled with Odine’s hardware. Besieged from all sides by the monitors, screens, consoles and workstations lining the walls were things neither one of those assembled were quite sure about. Domed tubes, large chunks of indeterminable hardware extruding cables and wires that cluttered the floor with snaking lines filled up most of the space in between. It all lay under a chaotic mess of stray pages and spreadsheets.

Laguna, with Kiros, Ward, Mir and Xu was punching a console standing underneath a dead screen, as if he could, by the sheer force of his fists, get it to budge. After a few more hits, he kicked the base of the console and screamed in frustration.

“You _fucking.._!”

Quistis and Seifer stood dead at their tracks.

Laguna ran a hand through his hair.

“Odine.” he said.

“Odine what?” Seifer’s jaw dropped.

“Fucking _Odine._ ” Laguna repeated, “He sold us out.”

“He took everything.” Kiros commented simultaneously with Ward grunting in frustration, “His confidential research, parts of military projects he was involved in...”

“That explains how they found Squall’s group as if they were the ones who put him there.” Quistis said.

“It also explains how Galbadia Garden was able to gun straight for us, despite the cloaking.” Xu said.

“But it doesn’t explain the hospital.” Seifer said.

“Actually, it does.” Mir said, “Since Odine probably fed our communications frequencies to the Sorceress, it’s not impossible that he also reported our deployment plans.”

“We should have seen this coming.” Quistis said, “The sudden curfew, we should have backed out...”

“We would have shown our hand.” Kiros said, “Of course, the outcome wouldn’t be much different than what we have in our hands right now, but it was a chance we had to take. Simple as that.”

Silence.

“So... what now?” Quistis asked.

“We play the waiting game.” Laguna said. He hastily added, “For now. Until we can find an opening to go in, or until the Sorceress gets restless.”

Seifer opened his mouth, but Laguna continued and Seifer held his tongue.

“I’m not going to leave my son at the mercy of the Sorceress. I won’t have it. I’ve lost him once and I won’t lose him again. I promise.”

Those assembled only nodded in agreement, too stifled by the weight of what had been said.

“What first?” Kiros asked.

“I need to make a phone call.” Laguna said.

* * *

Far from the promises made for him, at the heart of the unknown, Squall opened his eyes to an impenetrable darkness and shivered.


	19. Epilogue (Phone Call)

**(Edea’s Orphanage, Centra.)**

“Ellone!”

Ellone looked up from her book to see Mr. Kramer waving at her from the top of the stairs. She smiled. He was such a nice man, able to converse about anything and everything, ever-so-polite and fun to be around. It made what was pretty much an exile more pleasant. Of course, Matron, despite her role in the Second War, was also very easy to be around – all you needed to do was to remember that here, she was the Mother and you were the child. Having seen Mr. Kramer act like a kid partially to feed this power status, Ellone couldn’t object.

“Ellone!”

She closed her book and stood up. Her bare toes sank into the sand. Ellone trudged her way back to the stone steps. The cold, jagged edges against her soles made her shiver. She quickly climbed up, to where Mr. Kramer was waiting.

“Yes, Mr. Kramer?”

“You’ve got a call from President Loire and I do wish you would just call me Cid.”

“Uncle Laguna? Did he say what it was about?”

“Nope. It sounded important, though.”

“I see. Thank you.” Ellone nodded, prim and polite.

“Didn’t do anything.”

Ellone ran inside and went into the kitchen. The phone, an old, bulky thing held up on the wall by nails, was waiting – the receiver was on the kitchen counter. Ellone picked it up.

“Uncle Laguna?”

_“Elle! Hi! How’s Centra?”_

“Okay..." she said, "I guess... the orphanage is nice. The children are as well-behaved as children can be.”

_“I didn’t get to see Edea Kramer much, but she did seem very... motherly.”_

“If you ever forget that she is the mother around here, you’re in for it.” Ellone said.

_“I know being put out of the game like this wasn’t easy for you...”_

“I have seen too much of both wars, Uncle Laguna. I don’t mind. I’m not a soldier.”

“...a _nd_ _this isn’t a social call, Elle, I’m sorry.”_

Ellone shook, but reminded herself quickly that she didn’t know anything just yet.

“Did we fail?”

_“Yes.”_

“Can you fix it?”

_“...I don’t know yet.”_

Ellone sighed.

“What do I have to do?”

_“I need you to come to Esthar. I’ve already sent a carrier. You have about two hours to get ready.”_

“Uncle Laguna, you didn’t answer my question.”

_“I know.”_

“Tell me.”

_“I need you to use your ability.”_

Ellone sighed deeply.

_“I’m sorry, Elle. We're out of options.”_

“I don’t know what happened yet, but... you know, right? You can’t change the past.”

_“I wish I could... but we don’t need to. We just need to be able to relive it.”_

“...I’ll go pack.”

_“Thank you.”_

“Love you, Uncle Laguna.”

_“Love you too, kiddo.”_

Ellone hung up.


End file.
